


Wash That Man (right out of my hair)

by Mizzy



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Avengers Vol. 8 (2018), Blow Jobs, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fantasizing, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Smut, Hot Tub, M/M, Misunderstandings, Nudity, Obsession, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Podfic Available, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Public Nudity, Rimming, Sex, Two Guys Chilling In A Hot Tub, five feet apart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 09:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19943740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizzy/pseuds/Mizzy
Summary: When Steve sees the hot guy showering in the Avengers Mountain communal showers, he's interested immediately.Then he discovers it's Tony that he's spent the last few minutes lusting after.The last thing Steve Rogers ever expected to do was have to develop a way to hide his attraction to Tony Stark. Chanting villain names seems to do it, but how long will that work for?(Maybe he can also blame the hot tub?)





	Wash That Man (right out of my hair)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [baneme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/baneme/gifts).



> Thanks to Nigmuff for the title. :D
> 
> This fic is just some smutty crack inspired by the recent and already infamous HOT TUB issue of Avengers (2018) (issue #21 if you want to check it out, it's actually a pretty decent issue to jump into the run if you haven't been reading it?) 
> 
> This fic is not the superhot hot tub smut this issue demanded, alas.
> 
> This fic is, however, entirely a result of the following convo on twitter:
> 
> * * *

In Steve’s defense, it was normal for him not to understand at least forty percent of what Tony Stark said at any given time. 

It was just one of those aspects of their friendship and working relationship that he’d internalized as permanent and unchangeable. Quite often some of the things Tony said _sounded_ like English but then turned out not to be, once you took the words that you’d taken at surface value and put them together differently.

So when Tony said he had a brand new body, Steve thought maybe it was another technical term. Or dramatic hyperbole. Like, dang this body _feels_ brand new because of all the shiny technical things he’s done to it, not a completely brand new body.

Not a completely totally brand new body that is so fresh and new that it's not recognizable _as_ Tony's, if seen in the abstract.

Steve feels like he has enough justification, that’s all, for the incident in the showers that started all this.

* * *

The logistics of living in a weirdly person-shaped base extended to a headache of strategy, so it felt like an easy decision—when T’Challa explained it that only a few of the living spaces could have enough running water for a full bathroom—to agree that most of them would be happy to use the communal showers.

Their easy acceptance already felt like it paid off massively when Tony screamed the internal comms down when he came across Gorilla-Man showering. Tony hadn’t realized the Agent of Wakanda’s name was literal and assumed there was a massive naked gorilla loose in the mountain to cause havoc and chaos.

The agreement backfires on Steve spectacularly.

He doesn’t know it’s going to be a world-shattering experience when it happens. It’s a pretty normal Tuesday morning. He’s already gone seven rounds with the holo-trainer, taken Robbie through a solid session of unarmed disarming techniques, and spent an hour deliberately baiting one of T’Challa’s robo-panthers into chasing him, just to spice up his morning run. Hitting the shower afterward is normal. Routine.

Steve strips down to his briefs, getting out his shower gel and towel from his locker, and is heading to the cubicles when he slips. The downside of sharing a showering space is that not everyone is careful with their slippery products; Steve will have to ask Kevin to put out a strongly worded memo. Steve steadies himself but drops his own bottle of gel, and it’s when he’s bending down to pick it up that he sees him.

Steve had known he wasn’t alone, hence the courtesy of keeping his briefs on until the cubicle, but he hadn’t seen the other person until now, he’d only heard them. The cubicles don't all have modesty curtains yet—which Steve thinks is a mistake, or maybe someone just wants to see Tony panic over Gorilla-Man again—and the other person in the showers has picked a cubicle without one.

He has no reason to hide, Steve thinks. The guy in the showers is _perfect_. Naked and muscular and gleaming under the hot spray of water. Steve’s mouth is almost instantly dry. He’s never been turned on so quickly by the sight of someone naked; Steve’s almost dizzy when his dick stands to attention like it’s trying to salute the guy.

Steve automatically bunches his towel in front of himself and he can feel his face his warm, holy crap. He doesn’t often feel an attraction to men, but it’s not unheard of; his surprise is solely in the rapidness and intensity of his arousal.

Whoever this guy is, Steve’s motors are revved to full. He’s ready to move straight to Go, to collect $200. He’s leaking already, the tip of his dick escaping the waistline of his boxers, and his bunched-up towel resting against it is too much; he nearly gasps out loud at how much he’s feeling all at once. This is ridiculous. Steve’s contemplating turning and fleeing, maybe watching the shower room surreptitiously to see who the bather is—Okoye has selected a wide range of new agents to work with them under her direction, and maybe they’re single, who knows?—and then it’s too late.

Because the guy turns around and Steve knows who the perfect guy is.

Holy shit. _Holy shit._ He'd assumed when Tony said he had a brand new body that it was a metaphor, a dramatic exaggeration, not _a completely new unrecognizable-as-Tony-Stark_ body.

“Hey, Cap!” Tony beams widely at him, his mustache twitching with the smile. “Fancy meeting you here!”

“Haha,” Steve says, “yeah.” Smooth. That’s Steve Rogers for you. Eloquent under pressure.

“I'm still not over how good the water pressure is here,” Tony says and then squints. Steve wonders if he’s busted, especially as his dumb dick is not disinterested by the front view at all, in fact, it somehow impossibly seems to be trying to get harder—but it turns out it’s just suds running into Tony’s eyes that's making him squint. “Dammit,” Tony says and turns to rinse his face, hands flailing in this small distress, and Steve makes his move, scurrying into one of the other cubicles.

Steve jams the water on quickly, faces the wall and tries not to curse. Then he realizes he’s still (mostly) wearing his underpants. He yanks them down the rest of the way and hopes Tony’s the kind of communal bather to keep his eyes averted. Steve clearly apparently isn’t.

He closes his eyes but he can’t un-see Tony’s naked body and his mind replays it in a gleeful slideshow of imagery. Those muscles: perfect from the back, perfect at the front. Tony’s thighs have always looked good, but now they look like they could keep Steve pinned down for hours. Tony’s pink cock hanging temptingly from a thatch of perfect dark hair... Steve couldn’t see enough of his balls, but he thinks they’d be perfect too; the perfect size to mouth at, to roll carefully in his fingers...

Holy shit, _holy shit_ . Steve has never had this sort of reaction to anyone before, not this intense, and he’s never had a single thought of fantasy involving Tony Stark. Not once. Tony’s... _Tony_. Dependable. A genius. Wickedly funny. Rocking that despairing combination of low self-esteem but high ego, which shouldn’t even be possible, but that was Tony Stark for you. Impossible. Miracle-maker. Inventor. Three AM coffee fiend and mid-battle chatterer and secret aficionado of dad jokes when he thinks no one but Steve is listening.

Tony is a bedrock of his life as an Avenger; a cornerstone of Steve’s existence in this time.

He’s never been someone Steve looked at and thought... _yes, hello, I would like to mash my genitals against your genitals a lot, please._

It’s a fluke. That’s it.

“I’ve got to go see Director O before the meeting starts,” Tony says. Steve feels hyper-tuned to Tony's every movement, trying to tell Tony's position from the sounds he’s making. He doesn't want Tony to see him. What if Tony saw him like this? He'd probably be gracious about it because erections are totally normal and nothing to fuss about, Tony’s better about public nudity than Steve is. Less reserved.

"Is it anything important?" Steve asks, proud of himself for managing to sound relatively normal.

Steve still thinks he would be mortified if Tony saw him like this. He crosses his fingers and hopes Tony doesn't come close. Especially because Steve’s hard-on is refusing to go anywhere, dammit. It even seems to like the sound of Tony’s voice, what the heck? He swallows and reaches for the cold water lever nervously. If this is how it has to die, this is how it has to be. It’s that or have Tony discover Steve’s body is suddenly weirdly into his new body, and that...seems unbearable.

"Oh, just a couple of routine things, nothing too much to worry about," Tony says.

Tony's footprints get louder and Steve tenses up and his hand hovers over the cold lever, but then Tony’s footsteps move away and Steve can hear the rustling of material. Steve sighs in relief. Tony's getting dressed, then.

“Meet you in the kitchen in fifteen minutes or so?" Tony suggests, his voice muffled slightly mid-way, obviously pulling a shirt over his head. Steve's disappointed and relieved in equal measure. Some treacherous part of his brain has already started calculating how to accidentally burn all of Tony's shirts so he has to wander around shirtless for a while. "We can catch up before the meeting," Tony continues, oblivious to the trip that Steve's brain is currently taking him on.

“Sure,” Steve says. He knows his own voice sounds weird. He’s doing the best he can, considering most of the blood in his body has gone to one particular place.

Tony’s footsteps get louder again; he’s moving closer. “You okay, Cap?”

Steve swears silently and scowls down at his treacherous erection. “I’m fine, just got a bit of soap in my eyes,” he lies.

Tony laughs. “Relatable,” he says. “See you in a bit.”

“Yeah,” Steve manages. Tony’s footsteps recede and then the doors to the showers open and close, and Steve thumps his face forehead-first into the wall.

* * *

It’s normal. It’s got to be normal. Random arousal for a team-mate. It's bound to happen at some point. Okay, so it's a bit weird to happen around someone Steve's known for fifteen years without any boners being involved before, but Tony does have an entirely brand new body. It's absolutely positively normal and nothing to stress about.

Steve ends up taking an ice-cold shower after all, which is punishing, but it's the only way to convince his body that a night on the Tony Stark rodeo is impossible. And ridiculous. And never going to happen. Ever. It makes him too late to meet Tony in the kitchen, which is apparently a good thing, because Tony's most of the way through drinking a smoothie, aggressively sucking on a straw, and Steve nearly walks into the fridge when he sees it.

Tony pauses from his drink, quirking an eyebrow. "You sure you okay, Cap?"

"Haha," Steve manages. "Yeah."

Tony's eyebrows quirk again, but he lets the lie stand without further pushing, finishing his drink a moment later, which Steve is grateful for.

The meeting T'Challa's called is just a post-war logistics meeting and it's somewhat boring, as well as sadly necessary. Steve volunteers for quinjet duty; for as helpful as the Global Teleporter is, it doesn't allow them to teleport _everywhere,_ and Malekith's forces didn't helpfully only distribute soldiers in convenient locations.

Steve’s glad his volunteering seems to mean his part in the meeting is effectively over, because he's kind of useless for the rest of it; his gaze keeps catching on Tony’s mouth, and his brain chirps _Tony really does have very kissable lips_ at him every time. What the _heck_? Now it’s not just his body turning against him, but his brain too?

Tony would be a great kisser, Steve thinks. He knows what he likes, and he’s not afraid to take it from someone. He’s confident, but he’d be sweet with Steve, Steve's pretty sure about that. He knows that Steve has to be in control on the battlefield more times than he likes, so he'd take the lead with Steve in a romantic setting. Steve likes Tony's hands, he likes how rough they'd be from his years of working hard with them, but maybe his new hands are smoother? Maybe they haven't had time to form those old calluses again, so they'd be smooth on Steve's cheeks, smooth on Steve's thighs when he gripped them to spread them apart. Smooth as Tony pressed a questing finger between Steve's legs, firm against the sensitive skin there, and—

“Are you _really_ sure you’re okay, Cap?” Tony's voice breaks into the fantasy and it takes all of Steve’s strength not to flinch as he looks up in horror to realize the meeting is over. He and Tony are the only ones left in the room. Oh god. Did he say anything? He vaguely thinks he might have said something.

"Sure," Steve lies.

“You were staring at me nearly all the way through the meeting, I was just worried—“

“No, I didn’t—I was just staring into space. Space which you just happened to be in,” Steve says, and Tony looks skeptical and suspicious, and Steve hates that expression on him, pleasure would be so much better—oh my god. Tony's mouth, lax and hanging open, lips swollen because Steve's spent hours just licking into him, coaxing warm desperate noises out of him, random exhalations and syllables that Tony just can't help—he'd be so wanton, staring up at Steve as Steve works into him—and holy crap, no. _No._ It can't happen again, oh god.

Alas, his treacherous dick doesn't seem to _know_ it's not supposed to get hard again over Tony Stark and his boner is valiantly trying to make another appearance.

There's no way Steve can escape this situation gracefully unless he can kill his erection and there's no ice cold water this time. Villains. Yes. They’re total boner killers. The Red Skull's gross, shrunken face. Zemo and his weird addiction to the color purple. Crossbones and his awful mask. Zola and his android body straight out of a bad sci-fi movie. Von Strucker's repulsive _everything._

That works. Chanting bad guys has totally distracted his brain enough for his body to settle down. _Excellent_.

“Steve? Are you _sure_ you're okay?” Tony asks again, in a soft and warm voice, his fingers grazing Steve’s wrist, and warmth blossoms from that point, unfurling through his entire body, sparking out from this connection point. Shit. Chanting bad guys worked, but of course Tony's worried, because Steve must have a weird expression on his face.

“Migraine,” Steve blurts. “I have a migraine.”

Tony’s expression morphs from suspicion into pure concern. He moves his other hand to Steve’s forehead, gently resting the back of his hand against it for a few moments. “You do feel a bit warm. You need to go see the doc?”

Steve shakes his head, dislodging Tony’s hand. “Probably just from all that realm jumping,” he lies. “I’m just—gonna go lie down in the dark for a bit.”

Tony’s other hand is still touching him, fingers loosely resting near Steve’s pulse point. “Good idea. I’ll be in my lab. Message me if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Steve says, and flees.

By the time Steve gets to his room, he’s almost convinced himself that the migraine story wasn’t a lie. Steve quickly checks the system's audio recording of the meeting to find all he said at the end was some murmured agreement to T'Challa confirming their plans. There are no incriminating noises, thank goodness, and Steve didn't distractedly agree to do something like collect Frost Giant poop for scientific analysis, so it's okay. Steve's safe.

He can just put it down to one of those random boners. They happen. Totally normal. Never going to happen again.

* * *

Except of course it happens again, because Steve's brain is mean to him.

It's Tony's training gear that triggers it the next time, during mandatory team training. T'Challa insists on it, leading the team through some circuit training exercises, setting up stations around the room for them all to work on their problem areas.

Tony's at a hand weights station, T'Challa leading him through a different routine than he used for Carol, Jen, and Steve at the same part of the circuit. Steve's eyes linger on Tony involuntarily as he climbs up the rope set up just for him, one that goes up to a dizzying height, taking advantage of the distended architecture of the new base's rooms.

Tony's wearing a tank top that clings to his muscles, meaning he might as well be shirtless for all the cover it provides, and the shorts he's wearing, oh god. The shorts Tony wears are so tight that Steve can see the line of his dick when he bends over, and there are no words that can explain how badly Steve wants it in his mouth.

Steve mentally chants villain names as Tony bends over again, because his brain is insistent about that view, wondering how it would feel to lick into Tony, how responsive he would be. Would his asshole eagerly try and pull Steve’s tongue in deeper? Would Tony puts his hands down, to try and hold Steve in place even though he knows Steve could escape easily? Steve would let him pretend that he could be held down, because he can picture how Tony would look, staring down at him, mouth skewed to one side in smug victory that Steve was his, to do whatever he wanted with—

Steve refuses to let the threatening boner even come out to play and he grits his teeth as he starts to climb up and down the rope at as punishing a speed as he can manage, and he chants bad guys under his breath because that technique had worked last time.

He tries to rank the weirdest villains they've faced. Chemistro had been ridiculous, what's the point in inventing a weapon that blows up in your own face? Ruby Thursday and her lack of an actual head, she's always a weird one to fight. Axel Weele calling himself _and_ his weapon Big Wheel, what an idiot. Did the Rocket Racer take his inspiration from Tony's own rocket skates? Typeface, ha, yeah, that's a combo—no actual skill _and_ he looks like an idiot.

As Steve moves onto his next station, he sees Tony doing squats over by the wall. Oh god. Stilt-Man. Paste Pot Pete. Leap Frog. The Matador. Flag Smasher. Turner D. Century. Sugar Man. Egghead. Asbestos Lady.

"Uh, Asbestos Lady?" Tony says, startling Steve. Apparently, he's finished his squats and needs to be where Steve is. Steve obligingly moves aside to Tony can reach the skipping rope with red-and-gold handles he's reaching for. "That's a blast from the past."

Oh god. Steve had been chanting out loud. Well. It’s still better than sporting a boner for Tony where everyone can see it, right?

“I'm just...multi-tasking,” Steve explains. “Working on supervillain recognition quizzes for Robbie.”

“Okay,” Tony says.

"Oh no, there's gonna be more of them?" Robbie pulls a face from where he's trying and failing to pick up a shot put, missing the fact it's green to indicate it's an extra-heavy one for Jennifer's sake. "I thought I was done with those."

"An Avenger's work is never done," Steve intones, resorting to cliché because he's somewhat of a mess, considering how close Tony is, and how nice his shoulder muscles are this close.

"Didn't Asbestos Lady die from lung cancer?" Tony quirks a glance at Steve, starting to skip.

"Wait, why would a dead villain be on my quiz?" Robbie howls, still tugging on the green shot put. Steve sighs and goes over to help him, pointing out the black one painted with a cute cartoon skull. Robbie looks embarrassed.

"To be fair, quite a lot of our bad guys come back from the dead," Carol says, which is great, because Steve's brain wouldn't have come up with an explanation that clever so quickly.

* * *

Steve doesn’t think that the hot tub is a potentially dangerous situation until it's much too late.

After escaping the shower and meeting and gym without being publicly embarrassed, Steve's probably gotten too complacent, because his unexplainable Tony-focused boners have been neatly confining themselves to Steve's bed for the last few days. Which is still weird and bothersome, but at least it's not happening in public.

Because he's managed a few days without it, he's not worried about it happening when Tony and Thor cajole him into the hot tub _sans_ swimsuit. He’s mostly just thinking about his aching body and how much gunk giant spiders produce when you crush them and how sore his arm is after throwing his shield after endless packs of frost giants who don’t seem to realize the war is over.

It’s the glee of doing something with Thor and Tony that makes him act without thought. The water looks so good. Why would he need a bathing suit? The shield is enough for modesty’s sake; it could do with a clean too, the old girl has been doing him proud.

It’s only once he’s in and soaking that he catches a glimpse of Tony. His brain starts shrieking immediately, doing a very good impression of the mountain's security systems. _Warning, warning, warning, you've just made a giant mistake._ Thank goodness they’re all sat carefully five feet apart, because Steve’s body is still apparently very insistently into the way that Tony’s naked shoulders curve.

Steve doesn't stare shamelessly, but that doesn't help his racing brain. Somewhere under the water are those delicious ass muscles, and Tony’s perfect pink cock that Steve wants to suckle at. He wants to take Tony all the way down and suck him until he spills down Steve’s throat, until Tony’s crying at how good he feels. Steve wants Tony to _use_ his mouth, fuck into him without care; Steve wants to choke on him. He wants Tony’s hands cupping his swollen cheek, thumb rubbing the skin there; he wants Tony looking down at him and saying, _Steve, you’re doing so well, honey_ , and for his fingers to push into Steve’s hair, tangle in and hold, so he can set the rhythm he likes, so Steve can make Tony feel as good as he deserves to feel, so Steve can help Tony see the stars up close and personal without having to wear his space-ready armor—

Steve realizes in alarm that they’re not alone. Jennifer appears without a stitch on, and Robbie and Carol join the fun, and oh my god, now he's stuck in a hot tube with a heck of a boner and his entire team _right there_ , shit shit shit _shit._

It’s not like there’s an ice-cold tap anywhere around here. Villains. Yes. He needs to try chanting villains. Who are the current threats, the ones he needs to be paying the most attention to at the moment?

Starbrand. The Power Elite. Namor. The Squadron. The Russians. And who else?

Thankfully it works, because by the time Steve looks up from counting his current worries on his fingers, everyone's gone. Everyone but Tony, of course. The villain chant has had the right result, though, because at least Steve's dick isn't trying to wave at Tony anymore. The water's still churning after Robbie's attempt to warm the water, so Steve can't see much of Tony below the surface, which his brain labels a blessing as much as a curse.

Tony gives him a weird look. “You still working on those quizzes, then?”

Shit, Steve must have been muttering out loud. “Yep," he says, cautiously, hoping villain names are the only thing he's been listing out loud, and not all the things he wants to do to Tony. "Where did the others go?"

Tony smiles like it's amusing that Steve's brain has wandered. "Robbie was hungry, so they went to convince Broo to let us use the teleporter to go get Chinese food."

"Oh," Steve says. That's a good idea. Broo's conservative with their energy expenditure, so he needs convincing when they want to use the Global Teleporter for frivolous reasons, but he has been convinced in the past for egg rolls, so maybe it's Robbie's lucky day.

Tony takes his helmet off, placing it on the edge of the tub carefully, and Steve thinks _oh thank goodness, he’s going to get out_ , and he knows he should avert his eyes, but if Tony’s getting out, and everyone else has already gone, it’s the perfect time for a clandestine peek at Tony’s pert ass. No one will see him do it. One more look isn’t that terrible, is it?

Except. Oh god, he’s not getting out; Tony’s swimming closer, smooth languid strokes.

Tony doesn’t come right up to Steve. Just closer. “You coming, Steve?”

Oh, that's bad terminology. Now Steve has a new phrase that's going to make his night-time mental Tony slideshow even more agonizing.

“I think I’m just gonna stay here a bit longer,” Steve says, hoping he doesn’t sound too panicked.

Tony watches him for a second and then nods. “Make sure you don’t drown,” he says, and then turns, and oh, yeah, there’s the glimpse of Tony’s perfect butt that Steve was shamefully hoping for.

Steve sinks down into the water as far down as he dares and sighs heavily, staring down at his uncooperative groin which is misbehaving again, goddammit.

He's going to run out of villains if he doesn't get a hang of this soon.

* * *

Steve makes it to his room without being caught in an indecent state, but it’s a close thing; he barely gets behind the door before he’s dropping his pants and taking himself in hand.

It doesn't take long. “Tony,” he whispers out loud, unable to help himself. “ _Tony_.”

 _Are you coming, Steve?_ Tony's voice asks again in his mind and Steve spills out into his hand, almost laughing at how fast it happened. He washes his hands in the small sink in the corner, the only amount of plumbing that could reach this quarter of the base, and then he stares at his own reflection in horror as the guilt swiftly arrives.

Oh god. Steve’s a pervert. He shouldn’t have looked, knowing he was deliberately going to put the image in his mind for something like this.

Is it just Tony's new body that's turning him on? Would it be anyone that looked like he does? Does it make him _shallow_ that it's only Tony's _new_ perfect body that's arousing him?

Tony's voice is apparently arousing to him now too. Steve puts on some fresh clothes, a pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. He replays Tony's voice again in his mind as he does, and his dick twitches hopefully even though it's much too soon, and Steve's appalled. Tony's body might be new, but his voice is exactly the same as it's always been.

 _Are you coming, Steve?_ That's going to be his masturbatory soundtrack for months, Steve thinks, his face feeling hot. Maybe forever. Will he ever be able to even _hear_ Tony speak now, without being aroused?

Steve's never been attracted to him before and the idea that it's just Tony's brand new and shiny body doing it bothers him a lot. Maybe Tony's old body would have done it too, if Steve had seen him in the showers? He chews his lower lip mindlessly for a moment and then stomps over to his laptop, flipping up the lid and loading up a search engine. He clicks on the image tab and searches _Tony Stark_ before his rational brain can fully kick in.

This is science, he thinks, determinedly. He needs to know. He needs to know if he would be attracted to Tony in this way, if Tony didn't have a brand new shiny body. He can't drop back into the past to check for sure, but the Internet holds a wealth of imagery. Not specifically for Steve to check if Tony's past looks are boner-inspiring, but hey, Clint always does say the internet was invented for porn, and Clint’s not right a lot of the time, but maybe it's like one of those _a stopped clock is right twice in a day_ kind of situations.

Steve brings up photos of Tony to see if he’s attracted to how Tony used to look.

It doesn't take long. Just a couple of pictures. The first few are of Tony's face, old and new, mostly identical except for the facial hair. Blue eyes bright and shining, that super kissable mouth stretched in a smile.

Then there are full-body photographs, of Tony at twenty, thirty, forty, and Steve's pants are tenting abominably. Steve's head feels light, like his scalp is buzzing.

It's not just the new body.

At least not now.

Now it’s just Tony.

It's Tony that's attractive to him.

It's Tony's _everything_.

Steve stares at a photo of Tony in a suit, posing outside of some gala. It was back when he still had the RT and the light's glowing through Tony's shirt, reflecting upward and onto his face.

He's always been beautiful.

Steve's heart is thumping so loudly that he nearly misses the knock at his door until it happens again. He gets up awkwardly, quickly shoving one hand in his pockets because that's the blessing of sweatpants, being able to somewhat disguise inappropriate erections, and he opens his door a crack, smiling politely.

Tony comes through fully, unaware of Steve's reluctance, because why would Steve not let him in? He's never said no before. Tony's carrying a tray with something on it—a plate covered by a metal cloche, chopsticks balanced on the side.

"Broo approved as long as we got it actually _from_ China," Tony says, not bothering with small talk, they so rarely do nowadays unless something awkward has happened between them professionally, and it's been a while since they last disagreed so badly. Well, Namor, but everyone's trying to forget about that. "But because I'm the only one who can speak Cantonese, I got to do the ordering, so I made sure to get your faves—you're welcome. Thought I'd bring it up here before Robbie ate it all, the kid's a vacuum—"

Tony's sliding the tray onto Steve's desk when he suddenly goes still, his shoulders tensing, and his babbling stops abruptly.

Steve follows his gaze and then panics. Because Tony's staring at Steve's laptop, where the photo of Tony is still full-screen, and shit, Steve's an idiot, he should have put the lid down, but he hadn't been looking at porn—nothing that _should_ have been porn, anyway—and oh god, Tony's expression is awful.

Steve shuffles, awkwardly. "Tony," he says, helplessly, because he's not ready for this awkward conversation. How do you even handle a situation like this one?

"It's okay," Tony says, in this horribly tight, tiny voice and Steve dies inside, because it's worse than he imagined. Tony's horrified that Steve is attracted to him, and why shouldn't he be, when minutes ago they were naked in the same hot tub? It was crossing a line to look, Steve knows, and he's so ashamed of himself. Well, at least shame is an effective enough erection killer too, Steve vaguely realizes. "I understand."

"I'm sorry," Steve mumbles, barely able to look Tony in the eyes.

"It makes sense," Tony says, still in that small voice, "I've been a villain before, it makes sense you'd need to make a slide with my information on for your supervillain recognition tests—" And Tony just...visibly compresses in on himself as he says that, trying to draw himself in smaller in an impossible way, and Steve hates it.

Wait, what? Tony thinks...He thinks Steve's downloading a picture of him to put on Robbie's supervillain recognition tests? Oh god. Oh _god._ Tony really thinks this is what is going on? Steve hates it, he hates hearing Tony's voice like this, hates seeing Tony like this, and the truth is embarrassing as hell, but it's got to be better than _this_ horror.

"That's not it at all, I promise," Steve blurts out, unable to phrase it in a better way, but maybe there's no way to couch his embarrassment nicely. He doesn't know where to start. Something Tony might understand, maybe. "It's science."

"Science," Tony says, sounding incredibly dubious. At least his voice doesn't have that terrible smallness to it now. Just a regular amount of confusion. "My face is science?"

"Well," Steve says, awkwardly, "I was testing a hypothesis."

Tony's silent, but his face is clear. _Go on,_ it's saying.

Steve swallows. There's no going back now. He's not a coward. He can be honest. "I was just… trying to see if I was attracted to you as you were, or if...my recent, uh, attraction to you...is just me being shallow, and it's just your new body. That's, uh, that's what I was testing." He trails off awkwardly, because that's his bravery used up, maybe.

Tony looks like Steve just punched him, but at least he's not trying to concertina himself into nothingness, which is an improvement. Even if Tony punches him for this, or shouts, it's much better than that horrifying self-loathing.

"Oh," Tony says. He swallows, visibly. "Uh. Were you able to come to—uh, to arrive at a conclusion? To your, uh, hypothesis? What _was_ your hypothesis?"

"Well," and Steve's throat is dry, but he has to keep going now, might as well rip the band-aid off, "my operating hypothesis was that it might just be the new body, in which case it’s just an aesthetic thing, a basic... _attraction_ that could fade."

"That sounds plausible," Tony says. His tone seems somewhat neutral and his gaze is locked on Steve's face intently, like the answer is very important to him.

"But," Steve says, and he has to swallow again, because Tony's intense expression is making his body respond again, and oh god, he's going to have to ask T'Challa for a leave of absence, if Tony's presence is going to do this to him every single time he sees him now.

"But?" Tony repeats, urging. And it might be Steve's imagination, but there's a note in his voice now that sounds...almost hopeful?

Can that be right? Steve almost doesn't want to believe it, but that tiny hint at hope is enough to buoy him forward.

"But," Steve repeats, "it turns out it's just a _you_ thing." He gestures vaguely in Tony's direction and at the picture, still on his laptop screen. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, I've just been chanting super villains to kill, uh, my bodily response to you at the moment, because it’s inappropriate to have feelings for a colleague—"

Tony's a genius, that's the thing, he's an absolute genius. He chooses to interrupt Steve's rambling by throwing himself bodily at Steve to kiss him— and it's so much clearer than any words that he might have chosen. 

When he pushes Steve against the inner side of his door with his hips, a certain part of Tony's anatomy nudging into his, the message is clear: Steve's not as alone in this attraction thing as he thought.

Tony kisses just like Steve imagined he would. His fingers thread into Steve's still-wet hair and he moans directly into Steve's mouth. Steve's head hits the solid surface of his bedroom door and his vision swims at how good this feels.

"You feel amazing," Tony says breathily, staring at Steve like he's something amazing. "I always knew you would."

Steve whimpers at the _always_ , his body red-hot with pleasure at the idea. Tony's _always_ knew that this would feel like this? Why didn't he clue Steve into what they were missing out on, then? He can't manage the words and he kisses Tony insistently instead, trying to communicate it as best as he can.

"I can't stop thinking about you," Steve admits, when their mouths slickly part for a second, both of them struggling to regain their breaths.

"How long have you been feeling like this?" Tony asks, mouthing along Steve's jawline. Steve's hands drift down Tony's back, his strong muscles shifting beautifully under Steve's fingertips, and Tony is a _genius,_ because he encourages Steve to pull the shirt up and over his head. Steve's fingers move immediately back to Tony's now-bare skin, he's addicted already to how it feels, and his fingers dig in briefly as Tony pulls one of his hands out of Steve's hair to graze against the front of his sweatpants.

Steve's legs buckle and Tony laughs, but it's not a mean laugh, and Steve sees stars as Tony drops to his knees and mouths at the head of Steve's erection through the material of his sweatpants. Oh god. Steve's going to die but what a way to go.

"Just a week, since I saw—since I saw you in the showers the other day," Steve manages, because how is Tony expecting him to speak eloquently with his clever fingers reaching up to tug Steve's sweatpants down to his knees, and Steve's a genius because he didn't wear underpants; Steve's erection touches cold air for just the briefest of seconds before Tony's hot and clever mouth closes around the sensitive tip. "Is that—oh god—is that weird?"

Tony hums around his erection and has to brace an arm across Steve's waist to stop him from toppling to the floor. "We need to get you to the bed," Tony laughs, and Steve looks down at him helplessly and smiles, because somehow this is all joyous and not awkward at all, and Steve's brain is blood-deprived, but he's got enough mental power to strategically move just far enough so they can thump down on the bed together. 

Tony's hands finish tugging Steve's sweatpants off the rest of the way, and he whines, "Off, off," while batting at the hem of Steve's shirt, and Steve dutifully tugs it off and Tony's mouth goes back to Steve's dick, swallowing him half of the way down, and oh god, Steve's body _sings_ with how good this feels. He had plans for doing this to Tony, really good plans, but he's down and helpless, and oh god, Tony's eyes, staring up at Steve as he sucks eagerly, one hand sneaking up to touch Steve, fingers smoothing across his abdominal muscles appreciatively, raising up, catching against a nipple—

Steve cries out, he's so sensitive there, has he always been so sensitive there? He wants—he doesn't know how to explain it. He's straining toward something, something impossible, and he's dizzy but Tony's grounding him, and the pressure between his legs is breaking, cracking, exploding—

"Tony," Steve says, helplessly, and tries to push at him to let him know he's too close, that he's gonna come, which is ridiculous, he already came a short time ago, he should tell Tony about that, and he can't get the words out to say how close he is—and then Tony _swallows_ , sucking down Steve's come like it's that smoothie he was fellating the other day, only the face he's making is like Steve's sperm is infinitely more delicious, which seems impossible. But that's Tony. Impossible.

"This is going to be _epic,_ " Tony says, in a small satisfied voice, pulling back and just smiling down at Steve. He casts a quick glance at Steve's sink. "Should I—?" he starts, but Steve lurches up, tugging Tony back down into a kiss, because tasting his own come isn't a turn-off. All he wants is to be kissing Tony. He just wants to be as close to him as he can.

"You're amazing," Steve breathes, rolling Tony onto his side. Steve's completely naked, but Tony's still wearing his own pants, and that's unforgivable, and Steve frowns as he works on getting Tony the rest of the way naked.

"I know," Tony says, sing-song. Steve flicks an annoyed glance at him, and Tony smirks, and Steve can feel his own traitorous face widen into a smile. He's so happy. He didn't know he could be this happy.

He tells Tony this, and Tony's face softens, and Tony kisses him again, soft and eager and so sweet that Steve almost melts into the mattress. But there's no time for him to be soft, not when he's left Tony hanging, and Steve raises himself up on one elbow, desperate to taste Tony in the way he's been dreaming about incessantly for the last few days.

"Later," Tony says, pressing him back down, "I'm too close right now."

"What can I do?" Steve asks, desperate to please him, and Tony's right, he does look close, almost painfully close.

"Your hand," Tony gasps, "just give me your hand." He buries his head against the side of Steve's neck as Steve closes his hand around Tony's erection, and they gasp at the same time as Tony's whole body twitches as he makes contact, his thumb briefly grazing the engorged tip. Steve manhandles him so that Tony's tucked into the curve of his body so they have as much skin touching as possible as he works Tony's dick carefully, enjoying every single twitch Tony makes. 

"Are you sure it's just been a week?" Tony laughs in disbelief. "You move like you've been planning this for _years_."

Steve worries about it, and mouths his way across Tony's naked skin instead. He tastes wonderful. Steve regrets that he'll never know if Tony's original body tasted this good. "Is it weird?" Steve mumbles into Tony's skin, too worried that it is.

"I dunno if a week is weird," Tony says, and leans back at an awkward angle to bite down on the juncture between Steve's shoulder and neck, muffling a noise of pleasure that Steve locks away to remember later. He can feel it through his entire body. "Is it weird that I've wanted you for fifteen years?"

Steve's wide-eyed as Tony comes apart in his arms, spurting across his chest in white streaks that Steve is entranced by; he flips Tony onto his back just so he can trace the lines with his tongue, lapping it up. Needing as much _Tony_ in him as he can get.

They can worry about it. Or they can just embrace it. Embrace each other.

"Let's be weird together," Steve decides on as a good answer.

Tony smiles at him and pulls him up into another kiss, tangling their limbs together, and Steve's so lit-up with pleasure that he can barely tell where he starts and Tony ends.

* * *

Steve gets to do most of the things he's been thinking about over the next couple of hours, because Tony's refractory period is insanely good. Bonus of a brand-new body, Tony quips, as Steve works him open with his tongue, lapping at the soft and sensitive skin there like it might all be taken away at any time, so he doesn't want to waste a second.

Afterward, when Steve voices that fear, Tony makes sure to tell him that Steve can have him for as long as wants. When Steve says _forever,_ Tony's face goes soft again in a way that lights every single part of Steve up so brightly he feels like he could fly. Then again, he's always only been able to fly like this, right by Tony's side.

It feels just like that, actually, like flying and Iron Man and all the amazing things they do together. He's always felt this good at Tony's side. There's no feeling in the world like it, he thinks, as they drift off into sleep, still wrapped up together.

Maybe, Steve slowly realizes. Maybe it’s been fifteen years for him too. He didn’t notice. He’s kind of slow. He tells Tony so, whispering the words into his sleep-warm skin.

"Well, yeah, I already knew you were slow," a sleepy Tony in his arms murmurs, lazily kissing Steve. "Fifteen years and only just now sleeping together? It's a good thing I love you."

Steve, slowly, takes a few days later to mumble those three words back, because he doesn't want Tony to think he's rushing into anything. He wants to make sure Tony knows he means it. It's worth it even if Tony just says, "I know," and laughs as Steve manhandles him all the way to his bedroom to yell at him in private for being overly smug and knowing about everything. Tony gasps an apology into Steve's hair, pushing him down into Steve's mattress with those glorious thighs.

Tony's very fond of the hot tub and Steve obliges him as much as possible. It's just a shame it's in such a public area. Tony tells him one of his properties does have an outside jacuzzi, but it's under construction. Steve can wait. Until then, the mountain hot tub is close enough, even if they have to spend an hour later in Steve's bed working out certain...hot tub related frustrations.

They're chilling there innocently on another day, Tony remotely piloting Iron Man to do some brief clean-up, Steve—well, okay, Steve's just there to sneak adoring looks in Tony's direction, but Tony's aware of this behavior now, at least. The distance is to extinguish the impulse to keep it innocent, because it is a public area, and it turns out to be a good thing when they hear someone approaching.

"Two bros, chilling in a hot tub," Robbie sings teasingly as he walks past them. "Five feet apart because—"

"—they're bi and dating, but are respectful of their team-mates by not being intimate in public communal spaces," Tony interrupts, mimicking the sing-song tone of the meme, smirking across at Steve when he finishes.

Steve sinks under the water in pretend-mortification but spoils the effect by grinning at Tony helplessly.

"Uh," Robbie says, "maybe I'll leave you to that, then." He hurries out, yelling something at Carol about him hating when he's not told important things, just because he's new and inexperienced, and shouldn't he know something as important as Captain America and Iron Man _dating?_

"You okay with everyone knowing?" Tony asks, belatedly.

Steve thinks about it.

"So much I may have to start reciting villain names," Steve admits.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] Wash That Man (right out of my hair)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21820519) by [The_Casual_Sounds (the_casual_cheesecake)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_casual_cheesecake/pseuds/The_Casual_Sounds)




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